


Finding Out What You Didn't Want to Know

by Ommallaredpanda



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: A little, Alternate Universe - Wings, Amatakka, Amatakkan, BAMF Vader, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Daddy Vader, Darth Vader Lives, Darth Vader Redemption, Except you can ignore it, Finding, Gen, I Don't Even Know, Identity Reveal, Irony, It Doesn't Really Count - Freeform, It's for a sub-plot, Kind of a Time-Travel, LOADS OF IRONY, Mentions of Slavery, Mild Gore, More of a Ruin-it, No Slash, No Smut, Not A Fix-It, Please Don't Hate Me, Sith have Wings, Species weirdness, Stick with it, Suitless Vader, They realise he was actually person after all, They're interrogating past versions of Vader, Vader has a Heart, Vaderkin, Wing Reveal, Winged Sith, Wingfic, but it's subtle, it's wierd, mentions of underage rape, nothing graphic, references to everything, slow start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-04 22:38:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14603220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ommallaredpanda/pseuds/Ommallaredpanda
Summary: Darth Vader lives.Luke brings him to an obscure, top-secret asteroid based Rebellion prison that was blown near to the seconds Death Star.Once there, the Alliance decides to put Vader to trial using an ancient system called the Finding. This is where past versions of the criminal's personality are pulled from their mind and questioned. A Force sensitive as powerful as Vader has never been questioned, and the Finding has unexpected consequences, leading to the Galaxy as we know it.Leia must question her biological father for information that will bring closure to his many victims, but also allow the Rebellion to know if someone else might be going down the same path as he did. Along the way, she (and the rest of the Galaxy) finds out that even monsters have childhoods and that Vader had once been as humane as anyone. Sith have wings, Tatooine has a sub-species and the most powerful man grew up a sex-slave desperate to stay with his mother.OR:Our favorite sci-fi crew digs around in the past of Vader, with some extras added in :D





	1. Five Year Slave

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Wingfic, however, it can easily be ignored, in my opinion. It is not a central plot line, but more of a sub plot.  
> The only relationships are Han/Leia and Ani/Padme, however, it is nothing more than mentioned (or made fun of, in Ani's case).  
> I don't shy away from the horrible stuff Vader went through and committed, so be prepared for that.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Everyone stood, silent and still.  
A pin could have dropped, and the crashing of its silent passage through the air would have been deafening even on the other side of the small, self-contained asteroid-based prison.  
Top secret and always moving, even Leia Organa knew nothing about its location.  
(She did now, of course. Everyone knew, now)  
Space currents, vast and ever-changing lanes of fluctuating gravitational fields, had dragged the grey rock, sparkling with the alien life it unwillingly carried, towards the second Death Star.  
(Where it had last sat, at least – a dark blot against the stars of the sky, each light swallowed by the dual Dark presences on board)  
The day before, one of the presences that had scoured the Galaxy for years-  
(Once from the shadows, once from atop a black sun, scorching all who dared to look, let alone rebel)  
-had been destroyed. Nothing to mark its passing, other than a simple knowledge in the minds of each being to ever look up at the twinkling lights above and wonder.  
The other presence had not been snuffed out.  
For the inhabitants of the high security Rebellion prison, that Darkness was close.

 

Everyone stood, silent and still.  
Before them, a shuttle was limping in to land.  
Through the vacuum-proof glass, nothing could be heard, and each second stretched into a silent eternity.  
After tense millennia, it landed, grey hulk scraped and dull and dented. The right engine had been shredded from the blast it must have received whilst fleeing the explosion – not all of the massive space station had been reduced to space dust.  
However, even more concerning than the angry rip was the black cog of the Empire emblazoned upon its left flank.  
Against the grey skin, it glittered morosely – sad instead of the usual fiery anger it portrayed.  
The Rebellion personnel didn’t know who was on the vessel.  
They could be Rebel spies or inside-teams.  
They could be Rebel enemies, here to have revenge for the deaths of millions.  
So they stood in expectant silence, as the endless void howled through the glass, trying to tear them from their securities.  
They stood in silence.

 

Doors clanging shut, a young man sat inside of the mystery enemy shuttle.  
Those close enough could see, through the warping of the thick glass, that he wore torn black clothing. His hair was short and vaguely wavy. His face was clean shaven and boy-ish, features not bearing many scars or other signs of the War.  
His face was also the most famous amongst the Rebellion, for various reasons.  
“It’s Luke!” They whispered, “He’s here!”  
Each one pushed and shoved, trying to see their hero; “It really is him!”  
Moments after that realization, the ramp from the shuttle began to lower down, and the protective vacuum doors holding the Rebellion personnel began to lift. They pressed forwards, happy and joyful and laughing-  
(Despite it all)  
(Despite the millions they had helped to kill)  
(The billions now widowed, fatherless, motherless, orphaned)  
(Despite that)  
The Darkness pressing against their minds was shaken off as they tried to catch a glimpse of the young man who was their hero.  
But the moment they did, they stopped.  
(They saw what they didn’t want to – what they had thought had died)  
Luke Skywalker was limping down the ramp, face grave and wise past his few years.  
In his arms, he dragged his father.  
Darth Vader.  
(Anakin Skywalker)

 

Everyone knew of the prison, now – the findings would be blasted across the holo-net, and each person would be tuning in to watch.  
“Darth Vader: sentenced to death!” The headlines screamed, the story firmly described beneath. Details sometimes changed – but only the minor ones. The tale so good it didn’t need editing.  
But the one thing that never changed was the code needed to access the live stream: V4D3R.  
(The holo-net was taking its chance to mock him)  
Therefore, anyone old enough to understand knew of the secret Rebellion prison, floating around on its asteroid. In fact, topics about anything else became extinct when conversing with someone over the age of five.  
They gathered before the vast amount of devices receiving the transmission across the Galaxy and tuned in. Each person deftly tapping in the memorised code.  
Then they sat back, as the blank screen counted down to the beginning of the live stream.  
(Waiting for the secrets behind an infamously blank mask to spill out across the Galaxy)

 

Darth Vader blinked his eyes blearily.  
His vision was still red and dissected with various multi-coloured texts and symbols, half of which would mean nothing to your average sentient.  
“Argh,” He grumbled, head twitching slightly – sleeping with his helmet on had always been a bad idea. It was a miracle he could even function in his suit, with the way it aggravated his wounds and pinched at his remaining flesh.  
“The perpetrator is conscious – begin extraction procedures,” A voice, young, unsure and emotionless declared, amplified through his helmet.  
Moments later, each one lost to wondering over what had happened, a piercing pain ripped through his chest.  
(What remained of it, anyway?)  
Something pierced him just above the control box welded into his abdomen. The thing shot effortlessly past his cracked and burned armour – Sidious had evidently weakened it. Once lodged firmly below his mechanical diaphragm, Vader felt spikes protrude from it slowly, sinking further into him, a spider web of metal threads consuming him from the inside out.  
The Dark Lord jerked against the multiple restraints holding him down, the synth-leather groaning as it began to tear along the seams under such a sudden assault. His vocoder snarled and garbled, sending viscous screams of static from the helmet as Vader screeched in agony.  
(Then it popped, leaving the room echoing with his real screams, throaty and raw from experience)  
As the spear-headed barbs began to work – sedating the cyborg monster it was lodged in – Vader began to fall silent and still.

 

Time raced backwards.  
(Hours of torture became seconds)  
The perpetrator saw every moment in its life, every version of itself and every hope, dream.  
(Every hurt, nightmare)  
Each person reached out to it as it swirled past, their faces unrecognizable from symbolic scarring across its vision. Their fingers scraped over its mind and body, each nail scoring and marking and changing.  
(Reliance, hurt, fear)  
Emotions danced in vivid hues, colours blurred in and out of hearing as it floated in the nothingness that was itself.  
(Until something loomed out of the blurred calm-dune sandstorm)  
(A mongrel, tall as a Bantha, scales instead of fur)  
(Black armour welded into his skin)  
(Wings made to walk the sky)  
(Slave collar about his neck)

 

Around the Galaxy, the plain white numbers approached zero…  
(Blood red secrets spread across the pure hearts of the curious)

 

Moments before, he had been screaming.  
The great Darth Vader, screaming until his vocoder broke from who-knew-what, revealing the man’s own voice; scratchy and unused.  
(Or just broken from yowling out his pain for a lifetime)  
Soon, even the final flinches, barely noticeable under the thick armour, disappeared. He lay, silent and still, for all but the mechanical wheeze of his helmet.  
“The perpetrator is now fully loaded,” A young woman announced from her seat, “You may proceed with the Finding when ready, Princess.” Her eyes didn’t lift from the statistics flitting across the screen, keeping careful watch on the most dangerous monster in the world.  
Leia Organa stood from her seat. All eyes turned to her and her brother, whom still sat beside her. On either side of the twins sat Chewbacca and Han Solo. All four were watching Vader warily.

 

Zero.  
(Camera rolling)

 

“Citizens of the Galaxy,” She started, each word planned and enunciated perfectly, “As you have likely heard, Darth Vader – right hand of Emperor Palpatine – and perpetrator of uncountable war crimes has been captured.” She took a breath, hands clasped tightly behind her back.  
(Trembling)  
“Vader is being sentenced to death.”  
A pause.  
“However, we are not the Imperials, and we do not execute without proper trials,” A quick swallow, aware of the eyes of the Galaxy focused in on her, intense as the Death Star’s planet-killing beam, “Even the monsters that only claim to be sentient receive this right, and we wish to show all of you doubting us that we are just and fair. Even when it is unwarranted.  
“Therefore, we are following the proper procedure laid out by the Old Republic.  
“A Finding.”  
(But what do you want to find?)

 

Five minutes after the beginning of Leia’s speech, everything was ready.  
Others had spoken, but everything had passed by in a haze, too fast and anticipatory for any attention to be paid. Random members of the Alliance filed in; all held a personal grievance against the man lying unconscious below them.  
(Who doesn’t?)  
They sat in the rings stepping upwards, away from Vader on his metal slab. Each one was either trembling in rage or sorrow.  
Finally, the stadium – normally used to hold court – was filled.  
The silence was blanketing everything.  
Leia Organa once again stood, “Let us begin. Cassiopeia, if you will?” The young woman nodded softly, her meek eyes filled with a sudden determination as she flicked the switches.  
“Versions of Self, progressing from youngest to oldest, miss?”  
“Proceed.”  
“Locking in, tracking…” A quick manipulation of the controls, “Transmission shall begin within ten seconds.”  
(The tensest ten seconds in history)

 

Across the Galaxy, sentients leaned forwards in their chairs and stared intently.

 

A sudden flicker of light.  
In the chamber, the audience gasped, squinting into the darkness, trying to see.  
Moments later, everything was illuminated in a dull blue glow, emanating from a young child kneeling three feet above his future body.  
He slowly stood, and the light begun to glow from everywhere and nowhere, with no obvious direction, “Hello?”  
Gaping, even Han had nothing to say.  
Before them, and the rest of the Galaxy, was a boy. His eyes were a clear, bright blue and his hair was an even brighter blonde. His face was chubby and small, making the large blue eyes stand out even more. The clothes that hung from his unhealthily-thin frame were white and light brown, but worn and dusty. The difference between his plump face and emaciated body was decidedly creepy.  
“Umm… Hi? I… uh… I don’t know you…?” The child tried, lips working around the unfamiliar words carefully, so as not to slip up, “I don’t remember coming here…”  
Slowly, everyone overcame their shock, “What is your name?”  
He blinked those bright blue eyes.  
(Bright blue and cute as Hell, but not innocent)  
“I think it’s… Ma says “Anakin”, but I’ve got loads of others!” The child’s obvious Outer Rim twang was becoming more confident, “But Ma says they’re really bad names, an’ they’re not my name…”  
Organa watched the boy’s confused and nervous posture – hands wringing together nervously and shoulders bowed, “How old are you?”  
He looked confused, “Why are you asking me?” Suddenly, the blue eyes blew wide, panic sparking like the fires of Mustafar, “I’m not for sale! Me and Ma are already owned an’ you can’t buy us!” Towards the end of the sentence, his voice turned into screeching Huttese, but the words materialised, translated into Basic for all to see, above his head.  
“Buy you?!” Luke spoke for the first time since entering the chamber, features convulsing with concern.  
Anakin nodded frantically, “You can’t get us. Gardulla is our Master and we aren’t for sale!” The eyes were now shining with frantic tears, “Please, I wanna see my Ma…”  
At the softly spoken, tearful words, the Galaxy was silent and still.  
Darth Vader had once been a quiet, terrified young slave, desperate to stay with his mother.  
“Please…” Tears streamed down the small face.  
Leia swallowed, hand reaching across to grasp Luke’s for support, “How old are you?”  
“… Five…” He whispered.  
“You’re a slave?”  
At this, his eyes snarled with sudden righteous anger, and he stood from the kneeling position, “I’m a person, and my name is Anakin!” He indignantly yelled, anger radiating from his small frame in waves. Seconds later, in the bated silence, the floor began to tremble, little pieces of dust rising from the floor to float menacingly.  
“Fa- Anakin…?” Luke softly threw his voice into the tense silence, “Do you know what you’re doing?”  
Eyes, flickering a terrifying gold, blinked, clearing, “What?” Then everything fell back down, the trembling stopped, and the young child before them looked confused.  
“You don’t know what you just did?” Leia asked.  
He stared at her as if she were crazy, before explaining something that didn’t really need explaining, “I don’t like it when people think I’m a thing. I’m a person, too… Not just a thing.” Then he shrugged, “You aren’t going to auction me off, right?”  
“No, of course not,” Luke hastened to answer, “But we do need to ask you some very important questions. And you just have to answer really truthfully, got that?”  
“Yeah…” The young Vader nodded, hesitantly, “Okay…”  
“Who is your mother?” Leia shot her brother a grateful glance as she spoke.  
“Umm… Ma…?” He looked confused, “Ma is Ma.”  
A round of laughs disguised as coughs rounded the half-circle.  
The Princess hid a small smirk – seeing her personal worst nightmare and father combined as a small child was vaguely hilarious, “And what do you do as a slave? What do you and your mother do?”  
“I…” His face became closed off and sullen, “We clean up and tidy and feed our Master-”  
“Who is your master?” Organa interrupted.  
Anakin scrunched up his face as he attempted to say their name: another round of self-satisfied smirks, “Gardulla the Hutt owns us. And Ma has to dance in these weird clothes. They’re really strange and she doesn’t like them and I don’t like them.”  
No one needed her to ask, but the nature of a Finding required everything to be found, “What type of clothes were these?”  
“Really, really small and tight,” The kid’s eyes seemed to dull as he remembered, “You can see Ma’s belly when she wears her’s. Mine’s really nasty too – it hurts.”  
Another soft gasp, “You had one of these… costumes, too?” Leia hid her shudder, forcing herself from thinking of her own time in one. Of the Hutt leering suggestively down at her.  
“Yeah… I don’t like it, and they make me do these weird things, and they call us names, which Ma says are really bad and to never call anyone, ever.” There is a look to his eyes – something more.  
“Did they make you do anything else…?” The room – and the Galaxy – lay in wait of the answer. The answer they knew was coming.  
“Yes: they take us away and they… they…” He just stood, staring straight ahead, brilliant blue eyes blank and unfocused, “It hurts…”  
There was no need to question him more: what they did to him and his mother was more than obvious. Each member of the audience had to repeatedly remind themselves this was Vader to keep them from feeling protective pity for the young boy and his mother. They were good people, most of them, and they knew this was wrong.  
“No one deserves that,” Luke whispered softly, “You’re being really brave, telling us this.”  
Anakin blinked, and then the lost expression fled his face, “Really?”  
“Yeah, really,” Luke smiled warmly, “We’re going to ask some more questions, and then you can go back to your ma, okay?”  
Young Vader nodded, seemingly fortified by the small conversation with his future son.  
“Which planet do you live on?”  
“Tatooine.”  
That explained why he sounded like a country pumpkin. A mental image of the orange fruit dressed in Vader’s iconic gear forced Han to sniffle a snort, despite the rather shocking discoveries made seconds ago.  
The next question was a rather difficult one, and Leia hadn’t anticipated having to ask it of an adorable young slave, but, it had to be asked. “Have you killed or harmed any living creatures?”  
Some more confused blinking, before his face scrunched into one of serious thought, “No… I’ve not killed anyone, I don’t think, but the Tuskens attacked Ma once, and they were shoved back by something… Does that count, cos Ma told me never to do it again, ever, so I think it was me…?”  
It turned out that Vader had been fighting even as a youngster, “How old were you when this happened? Did it ever happen again?”  
“It was about a year ago… I think… An’ Ma told me not to do it so I’ve not!” He looked rather indignant about her assumption he had disregarded his mother’s orders.  
Everyone was silent.  
There were no more questions she had to ask the youngster, and so everything descended into awkward quiet.  
In this awkwardness, Anakin began to wander around the invisible box he was contained in. Each time he came to the edge, he stopped moments before he would have face planted into it, which was rather fascinating, “How are you doing that?” Luke questioned, after watching his father almost-but-not-quite run face-first into a wall for the fifth time.  
Anakin shrugged, “I know it’s there, but I can’t see it,” One finger ran delicately over the wall he was standing right in front of, “I can… feel it?” He shrugged again, “It’s really weird, and no one else can do it.”  
They observed the young Vader in silence for a few more minutes, before Leia glanced along the rectangular table she sat on, each face – Han, Chewie, Luke – seeming to agree with her. They’d seen enough of this child.  
“You can go now, Anakin.”  
He grinned, blurted out a quick “Thanks!” and promptly disappeared as Cassiopeia manipulated the controls.

 

Adults and children and sentients of all races leaned back, confused, as a young, bright-eyed youngling disappeared from their devices.

 

Leia Organa gave the Galaxy – and herself – no more than half a minute to process what had just happened.  
Then; “Cassiopeia: next Version.”  
“Yes, miss. Locking in, tracking… Transmission will begin again within ten seconds.”  
The Galaxy held its breath.


	2. Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short, and to those wondering: the reason that his destiny has changed at this point is because Qui-Gon, Padme and Obi-Wan have just landed on Tatooine at the time he is pulled from the memory.

A flicker of light, the exact same as before.  
Emerging from it, a kneeling young child.  
He was still rather short, with chubby cheeks and an emaciated body. The only new feature was his clothes: grubbier and streaked with oil. Other than that, his eyes were still large and blue; his hair still unbelievably blonde.  
“Anakin?” Leia questioned, just as his head rose, eyes shaded from experience.  
He watched her warily, but curiosity was still evident, “Yeah? What d’you want?” It seemed that the trusting, wide-eyed child from before was gone. Or, perhaps just buried.  
She steeled herself, “We need to ask you some questions. They’re very important, and then you can go back to your mother.”  
“Why?” The question was short and suspicious, “Where am I?” Even as he asked her the questions, he stood up and began looking around, taking in the multiple faces staring at him intensely.  
Luke cut in before his sister could speak, “You’re still wherever you can last remember, okay? This is just a vision-thing. That’s where your body is in one place and your soul another,” He grinned at the openly-awed face of his Father, “Pretty cool, huh?” In response, the now-beaming Anakin nodded furiously.  
“How d’you do it?!” He asked, excitedly.  
The Jedi shook his head, “Can’t tell you – I have no idea.” Young Vader’s face fell morosely, “But, we still need to ask you these questions, and they’re still super important. Can you answer them for us?”  
“… Yeah, okay!” Luke glanced over at Leia and gestured for her to continue.  
“How old are you, Anakin?”  
“I’m nine, now! Nearly ten!”  
“Do you still live with your mother?”  
“Yeah.”  
“You’re still on Tatooine, or have you moved?”  
“Tatooine, unfortunately,” Luke smiled knowingly at that comment.  
“Have you swapped owners at all?”  
“Yeah… Gardulla lost us to Master Watto in a game. He’s much better than she was!” He grinned, “All I have to do is look after the junk shop and fix everything. Sometimes I race to get extra money for Master so Ma gets extra rations!”  
Leia cocked her head inquisitively, along with most people watching the strange conversation, “Race?” She enquired.  
“Uh-huh! I pod race. Made my pod myself, an’ I’m nearly finished with this protocol droid. But, I can’t find him any covering-plates… He’s gonna help Ma out with the cleaning!”  
Luke smiled, “Does he have a name yet?”  
An enthusiastic nod; “C-3PO! But I call him Threepio! I’ve only turned him on once, and he still needs to have some circuits welded in right, but he’s good.”  
Han gasped, along with Chewie, “Threepio…!” He muttered under his breath, “Now his “thank the maker” makes way too much sense…” The Wookiee grumbled in unhappy agreement.  
The twins hid their surprise, “That sounds nice, Anakin” Leia smiled falsely, internally reeling in shock, “Does Watto beat you?”  
The topic-change was sudden, but the youngster didn’t seem to mind, “No… Well, it isn’t as bad as with Gardulla.”  
She hummed softly, nodding. A quick skim through the questions showed that there weren’t many left, “Well, Anakin, you’re nearly done. Just this one and you can go back: can you do anything unusual? That no one else can?”  
He watched her warily for a few seconds, and then glanced over at Luke – as if for reassurance. The Jedi gave him an encouraging nod, “We won’t be mad at you…” He declared softly, eyes caring and as soft as his voice. “You can tell us anything.”  
“… Can I show you anything…?” The youngster asked, voice quiet but not meek. His head was lowered so that he had to look up at the rectangular panel through lashes, giving him a puppy-dog look.  
Luke was surprised for a second, glanced over at his sister – whom simply shrugged, as confused as he was – then answered, “As long as you won’t hurt anyone, yes.”  
Anakin nodded a little, before he took a couple of breaths. The nervous child reached as if to take off his shirt, before hesitating again, “Ma said never to show anyone, ever…”  
“You can show us; we’ll keep your secret,” Leia smiled encouragingly from her high seat, unable to remain completely removed from such a small, lost child.  
“Okay… Promise?”  
“Promise.”  
He nodded, and then swiftly removed his ratty vest. To the surprise of everyone present – the whole Galaxy – his body was criss-crossed with multiple scars, all of varying ages. However, that was to be expected of a slave: it was simply strange, as this was Vader.  
But, what seemed to be the something he was showing them wasn’t the horrific amount of scars. Instead, it seemed to be whatever was under the long bandage wrapped around his chest.  
Over the swath of white cloth was a dark brown leather harness, with dented bronze rings holding the ensemble together.  
“… Anakin? What is this?” Leia questioned, even as her brother hauled in a breath, surprise evident in even that small action.  
Luke reached out and grasped his sister’s hand under the table, “You don’t need to…” He told the young version of his tyrannical father.  
The child shrugged, “It’s uncomfy anyway,” He mumbled, shrugging his showing them off as nothing.  
Then, the deft little fingers unclipped the harness and it fell to the floor of his little box with a clang – it remained hovering three feet above his future body’s head. The bandage followed it seconds later, to leave the Galaxy staring at a bare-chested young Vader.  
Two long wings stretched from his back.  
Both were the exact colour of his hair, except for the occasional black or gold-red feather, “What d’you think?” He asked, turning slightly to make the two extra appendages easier to see, “I think they’re cool.”  
“Same here,” Luke flashed a shaky grin, “Cool…”  
Other than his unsure words, everything was silent. Gazes weighed upon Anakin’s small – wing-sprouting – shoulders. No one, other than Luke, had anticipated this.  
“So… Are you related to someone from the Moons of Iego…?” Han spoke up, confused.  
Anakin shook his head, the wings swaying as his entire body was twisting with the movement, “No. I just have wings – it’s weird! Ma says its prob’ly cos I don’t have a Da.”  
“You don’t have a father?” Luke stared at his young father, “Really?”  
Again, the head-shaking was overly vigorous, “Nope. Ma never did the “thing” with anyone. Other than… But that doesn’t count!” He scowled at the reminder of their time with Gardulla.  
Leia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, obviously both bemused and exasperated, “You have wings. Can you fly with them? When did you get them?”  
“Ugh…” His face scrunched in thought, “Yeah, I’ve flown a little… But Ma said to never, ever do it again! An’ I’ve had ‘em forever!”  
She watched him sceptically, before turning back to her notes, “Okay… Can you do anything else unusual? Like moving objects without touching them, choking people, quickened reflexes, “feeling” things..?”  
“Yeah,” He grinned, “I can move things, sometimes. But it only happens if I’m really, really angry! Ma says it’s bad, though, so I try not to… It’s really hard.”  
“Choking people? Enhanced reflexes?”  
His brow furrowed, perplexed, “Sometimes Gardulla’s guards got really bad throat problems if they hurt Ma too much, but I’m not sure if that counts…? And what’s a “reflexes”?”  
More hidden smirks.  
“Did they usually die from this?”  
“No, they just kinda went still for a bit, and then woke up really scared,” Anakin shrugged, “It’s not a big deal.”  
Leia flicked through her notes a bit and wrote down some things, before looking up again and smiling tensely at the young version of her father, “That’s everything for now, Anakin.”  
“You can go back to your mother now,” Luke explained at the slightly confused expression, “Everything’ll just go dark for a second, then you’ll be back, okay?”  
“Okay!” He grinned, “See ya next time!” He waved goodbye, even as his body winked out of existence.

 

Conversation burst out as young Vader left: “wings?” “Choking people at that age!” “He really was a slave…”  
Again, the Princess only gave herself half a minute to both process and store away her memories of the interaction.  
Then; “Cassiopeia?”  
“On it, miss,” She confidently flicked the controls, the clicking of her long fingernails unheard with all the murmuring. However, her next ones were, “Locking in, tracking,” A glance up to her superiors, “Transmission will begin within ten seconds.”

 

The Galaxy returned to waiting.


	3. Don't Hate Yourself

Again, the white light signalled Anakin’s return.  
“Oh!” He stood immediately and swivelled to look up at all of them, “Hello, again.” Within seconds, the shirt and harness were off – obviously they were both incredibly uncomfortable for the young boy, “I’m ten, now!”  
They stared at him. There were no records of perpetrators’ past versions remembering or having any knowledge of the Finding.  
Then again, this was Vader, which was getting harder and harder to remember as time went on.  
Taking their silence in the wrong way, the child almost immediately seemed to shrink in on himself, wings pulling around him protectively and fluffing up slightly, “Were you expecting someone else…? Is this the wrong time..?”  
“No, no!” Leia replied, startled – the shy politeness of the child was outstanding, especially considering what he grew up to become, “We just have some more questions for you… Like, what happened to your hair?”  
A big, goofy grin spread across his young face. This drew attention to the fact that his cheeks were no longer chubby, and that his body was no longer dangerously thin, but covered in wiry muscle. “I’m a Padawan!” He blurted out and wriggled happily as he did so, still beaming, “My Master is Master Obi-Wan and he’s amazing! He killed this Sith called “Darth Mall” or something… Do you know why he was named after places for shopping, cos Sith are s’pposed to be big and scary and mean, an’ that’s not a big or scary or mean name! I think it’s actually pretty silly…”  
Luke smirked, “What about “Darth Vader”?” It earned him a sharp look from his sister, but also a small round of snickers from everyone else.  
“Umm…” Anakin scowled at the floor, “I dunno. That one’s better. It’s a bit… weird, I guess? But in Amatakka, “Darth” is “dark” and “vater” – which kinda sounds like “Vader” – means “father”. So, that’s a “dark father”… Right…?”  
The quick – and incredibly accurate – statement left Luke and Leia almost breathless.  
Had it really been that easy to see, all along?  
The Princess swiftly shook her surprise away, unlike Luke, and began scanning through her notes, “We have some more questions for you,” She repeated, “And they’re still pretty important. But, there aren’t many, so this shouldn’t take too long.”  
“Okay!”  
“First question: have you killed anyone?”  
He stared at her, “Why do you always ask that?”  
“Because it’s important and we need to know.”  
“Why’s it important?”  
Before Leia could reply, Luke butted in, “Because it could save a life.”  
Anakin looked even more confused, but accepted the answer, “Whose life? And why’s it so important? Do I know them?”  
“You know them, Anakin. Very well. But, you’ve never met them. Saving them would be a good idea for you, and we can only help if you answer the questions truthfully.” Luke leaned forwards, placing his elbows on his knees, “Just trust us.”  
Slowly, young Vader nodded, “I blew up a space-station-thing about five months ago. Does that count?”  
It most certainly did.  
“And were you nine or ten when you blew up the station?” Leia didn’t think she would be shocked anymore, no matter what happened: her father, tyrannical despot-lover that he was, had been an adorable little midget whom blew up space stations at age ten.  
“I was nine,” The reply was quick and happy.  
Nine, then. She wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.  
“How did you blow it up?”  
“In a fighter! It was amazing!!” He grinned from ear to ear, “Everything was blowin’ up an’ Artoo was amazin’ and-!”  
“Hold up!” Han yelled over the excited kid, “R2-D2?! Don’t tell me you built him too!”  
Anakin shook his head, “No, but I have modified him a lot and I’ve backed up all his memory banks so he can’t get wiped.”  
That stunned everyone into silence.  
R2-D2 had to remember Anakin, then, as Han knew no one had wiped the droid, and a wipe probably wouldn’t work anyway, if the kid actually had done what he said, “This is crazy…” He grumbled.  
“What you get for tangling with us Skywalkers,” Luke whispered back, nudging his friend in the ribs as he did so.  
A soft laugh later, and Leia was quickly flicking through her list of questions again, “Okay, so, back to the questions, Anakin. This shouldn’t take too long.” When she received a nod of acknowledgement from her biological father-to-be, she continued; “What wa- is your mother’s name?”  
“Shmi Skywalker.”  
“Father?”  
“Don’t have one; I’ve already told you that…” She ignored his small protest and continued on to the next question.  
“Why do you have that braid?”  
“It’s a Padawan thing. Yoda chops it off when you become a Jedi Knight!”  
“Have you been trained to use a lightsaber?”  
“Yeah; I started a week ago! Master Obi-Wan says I’m doing really well,” The pride was obvious in his voice. Leia quickly scribbled the information down.  
“Can you use the Force better now?”  
“Uh-huh – I can lift rocks, people and crush things. It’s too easy – Master Obi-Wan always makes me do the easy things...”  
“You’re being taught academic subjects?”  
“Yeah…”  
“How well are you doing in that?”  
He fiddled with his thumbs for a couple of seconds, before answering, “Really bad. Master’s teaching me how to read and write and what all these weird new words mean. Like “alter”, as in “altering a deal”, and “technological” and “terror”… I don’t get what’s different with those two…”  
Yet another surprise, except Leia was studiously unsurprised.  
“Does anyone besides us know about the wings?” That one wasn’t on the list, but Leia was allowed to add in her own questions, if she deemed it important enough.  
Anakin grew quiet at the mention of his unusual appendages, “No… Should I tell Master?”  
Vader was looking to them for guidance which was odd in and of itself. Leia decided to defer to her brother, who young Vader seemed to like, “No… That might be a bad idea, Anakin. Do you know why?”  
“No, but Master Obi-Wan’s gonna tell me something really important soon! He said so!” He beamed, obviously pleased at his master sharing something important with him, “It’s about Sith!”  
Luke’s face fell, “Don’t hate yourself, okay? There’s nothing wrong with you.” Leia shot him a disbelieving look, along with nearly everyone in the chamber, and across the Galaxy.  
Another flick through the notes showed that there were no more questions they desperately needed to ask the youth, and Leia had a feeling that the ones she could ask should wait, “You can go now, Anakin.”  
He looked confused, but grinned at her as enthusiastically as ever, hand raised in a cheerful wave goodbye.  
Then he blinked out.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this - leave a comment and kudos if you did!
> 
> Plus, if you want, I'd love it if people made fics in this universe, or a modified version!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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